


Time to cross your heart and hide your gun

by PlatonicDemonic



Category: Who Killed Markiplier? (Web Series)
Genre: Darkiplier Mark Fischbach, Everyone Needs A Hug, I'm Bad At Tagging, Post-Who Killed Markiplier?, Time Travel, Wilford Warfstache | William J. Barnum | The Colonel Needs a Hug
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-16
Updated: 2020-12-16
Packaged: 2021-03-11 02:21:49
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,661
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28117626
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PlatonicDemonic/pseuds/PlatonicDemonic
Summary: Wilford "mother loving" Warfstache. A man capable of breaking the laws of time and space. Altering it for his enjoyment.Sometimes, however, the past is the past for a reason. So what happens when you travel somewhere you buried? Would you even remember? Or would you be forced to?This is my first work on here seen as my Wattpad is dying slowly. :)
Kudos: 21





	Time to cross your heart and hide your gun

Wilford exists outside of time and space. His body carries his soul wherever and whenever he wants to go. Hopping back and forth through his lifetime and further, but he always ends up back in his original timeline. No altercations. No butterfly effect. Just causing mischief, with everyone else non the wiser.

He jumped today, however many years backwards, and was now enjoying the scenery.

It was a lovely garden. Stretched for miles. Carefully tended. Like the master of the house payed good money to keep it thriving. It worked, whatever they did.

He was walking up a cobbled path. Large and small stones alike, marking his way towards the manor that lay before him. 

He saw a golf course to his left, the grass was cleanly cut but golf balls lay scattered against the lawn. 

He continued on his way. Walking along until he saw what he could only describe as a large patio outside the house itself.

It was huge. Wilford had seen some houses in his time, but this trumped them all. 

It felt weirdly like home.

Like he was meant to be there. 

Maybe not at this very moment. But at some point in time, this was where he was meant to be. This would be his end, maybe his beginning.

It was oddly comforting. 

His daze was interrupted as his eyes danced over towards a man near the wall at the edge of the patio. He too seemed to be enjoying the vast garden that lay before him. The same one Wilford himself was entrapped by just a few moments prior.

The man was well dressed. Young. But his eyes seemed worn down. Black rings punched under each of them. He was leaning against a slick black cane with both of his hands, one of which bore a ring, not a wedding or engagement ring but one with a large ruby. His suit was neatly pressed. No wrinkles against his straight back. The glint in his eyes shone, the light being let in as his hair was swept out of his face, slicked back against his head. 

Something about him seemed, familiar. Felt close. Something about him told Wilford to put his old revolver away. This man was of no danger to him. Wilford didn't want to hurt him. He didn't know why. 

A breeze flew past and Wilford looked down. He felt like he was missing his jacket but he can't remember ever even owning one. If he did, it would probably be beige. He could picture it, clear as day. It would be like something you would wear on safari, or something you would wear into battle if you were a soldier, or maybe a colonel. 

It's a silly idea really. It was sidetracking from his original goal.

The man must of heard his train of thought stop as he then turned to Wilford with a raised eyebrow. 

"Will?" He spoke with a formal tone to his voice.

Did this man know him?   
God, Wilford had never even been here before, he could of sworn on his life that he'd never seen this man before. But he spoke that name like they've know each other for years. 

A name.   
He new a name for the face. He plucked it out of his brain and it slotted into the the puzzle that he was no where closer to solving. 

He knew this man.

It can't be...

"Damien..."

'Damien' didn't seem to hear him. He just walked closer, smiling. 

"Well I never." Damien stuck out his hand which Wilford took cautiously, "Will, my old friend. It has been too long. Mark didn't inform me that you would be here?"

Wilford smiled, he was an actor playing his part with ease. Like it wasn't even a part, just an extension of himself. 

"Well you know how he is, the man wouldn't tell his blood type to save his life!" He laughed. 

"Unfortunately I must agree with you there." Damien chuckled. "You should come in, it will be dinner soon and Celine is in, she would love to see you again." 

Wilford knew he had to leave. His facade faced breaking the longer he stood there with his old friend. The longer he talked about the woman he loved but was never able to have as his own. The memories came back in pieces. In glitches. 

He wasn't supposed to remember.

He was meant to move on.

This isn't his anymore.

For fucks sake, it was never his to begin with! 

He was a changed man.

He had a new life now. 

Away from Damien.

Away from Celine.

Away from Mark, that backstabbing son of a-

"William!"

Damien had dropped his cane and was now steadying Wilford by gripping his shoulders tightly. 

His eyes were filled with concern as Wilford struggle to catch his breath. 

"Sorry," breathe, "old chap, just been a long day." 

Damien helped him stand up before he picked up his cane and straightened his jacket. 

"Then you must come in. God, you worry me sometimes William. That and the fact that your moustache happens to bright pink now. It all make me wonder if your eccentrics have gone too far." 

Was it not always pink? He dyed it, obviously, but he'd never known a time when he didn't. What was it like before? How did Damien remember it? 

"I'm sorry, but Ive been busy recently," keep it up Warfstache, get out of here, you need to leave.

"William please. Your my friend and your worring me. Let me help you."

"It's nothing for you to be worried about Damien, I'll see you around."

Damien sighed as his head dropped, "At least write to me this time. Please." 

"I wouldn't dare forget." 

Wilford smiled.

Damien smiled back weakly. He watched as his friend walked down the path. Wondering when they would next meet. His friend had always been strange but he meant well. He wondered if they'll always be close. He hopes so. 

~

Wilford jumped back. Time travel was always easy for him but this jump made him feel nauseous. 

He looked around him. He was home. His real home. 

At least in this timeline. 

He was standing in the front room. Staring blankly at his feet. God, why was he so stupid, he had to go talk to him. Let his curiosity get the best of him. Fuck...

"Wilford, Wilford, is everything alright?"

He looked up at the mention of his name. Eyes darting back and forth before landing on the flickering figure who looked way too concerned for Wilford's liking. 

"I'll be in my room chap." Wilford smiled before walking away, an obvious bounce lost from his step. 

He pushed open the door and stepped in. He closed it with his back and sighed, finally letting a tear fall down his face. Something he hadn't done since the incident that he can't even fully remember. 

He sulked over to his wardrobe, the tall dark oak doors swinging open in a swift movement. 

He moved some of his clothes aside and saw it, like the day he first got it, leaning against the back panel. 

Mayor Damien's cane. 

He reached his hand in. Hesitated. He picked it up. He was holding it softly, afraid to damage it further then the worn handle from years of Damien carrying it around. 

It was his final reminder of him but he'd still forgotten. He caused his death and forgot his existence. 

It was his fault. All his fault. 

They were all dead. Damien, Celine, the fucking detective. All of them were six feet under and he fucking forgot them. 

He was the one who killed them!

He was sat on the edge of his desk chair, holding the cane with tears silently falling down his face.

"Damien... I'm so sorry. I-I didn't mean to. I never really did believe it. I couldn't. I looked for you for months after you died. I never wanted to face what I did. God, now look what happened. If you were still here.. god, the things I would finally say."

"Say it then." 

Wilford looked ahead. A hand held his shoulder. Was it...  
He looked behind him, it didn't sound like Damien, it sounded like...

"Dark? What are you..."

"You said you wanted to talk to Damien. He's been wanting to talk to you too. He never thought you would remember him. He appreciates that you kept his cane though. In such good condition too." 

Wilford looked confused. He was always confused. He never had to make sense of things before. He went about his day confused. He knew everything but not the order. Too many people, faces, names, dates and scenarios. 

But... he wanted this. He needed this. If this was the last thing he ever knew consistently, he would give up everything. 

Dark sensed his confusion and knelt in front of him. It made him less intimidating and as he hadn't seen his friend like this before, it was important to him that he tried.

"Wilford. I'm Damien, I'm also Celine, and they're me. I understand it's confusing but it was never your fault. There souls got trapped in the house, they took me as a physical form. I am Darkiplier and home for the souls of your friends."

Wilford looked ahead, unseeing. He nodded and stared at his friend. 

"Can they hear me?"

Dark smiled, "they've always been able to." He laughed lightly as he spoke. 

Wilford smiled, a final tear rolled down his face as it shone. 

"Ok then," he sighed deeply to compose himself, "Then I hope Celine knows that I never stopped loving her. And I hope that Damien knows that he was the best friend I could of asked for."

He held out the cane towards Dark,  
"I think Damien would like this back"

Dark smiled and pushed Wilford's hands away, "he says you should keep it, he always thought it suited you better."

**Author's Note:**

> If your reading this then thank you for reading my first fanfic on here. I do try. Really, I do. 
> 
> Please comment or something cause I'm still learning with this format. 
> 
> Love you platonically :)


End file.
